


Flip of the Coin

by SD_Ryan



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fic, Sherlock Being Sherlock, first snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-06
Updated: 2013-12-06
Packaged: 2018-01-03 15:07:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1071894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SD_Ryan/pseuds/SD_Ryan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"John never knew what shape the flat would be in when he emerged from his room each morning, and that was due solely—as you might imagine—to Sherlock. The possibilities were limitless, and John’s creativity had not yet ballooned sufficiently to anticipate the depth and variety of Sherlock’s methods of transforming their home."</p><p>One morning, John wakes to an entirely new—and not unwelcome—circumstance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flip of the Coin

John never knew what shape the flat would be in when he emerged from his room each morning, and that was due solely—as you might imagine—to Sherlock. The possibilities were limitless, and John’s creativity had not yet ballooned sufficiently to anticipate the depth and variety of Sherlock’s methods of transforming their home.  
  
What might greet John from day to day depended upon the insomniac detective’s unpredictable whims. Domestic war zone, with teacups smashed and experiments scattered to the floor in a fit of pique? Elegant concert hall, with Sherlock waltzing his way through an improvised bit of brilliance on the violin? Conspiracy theorist’s den, with stolen files strewn about and newspaper clippings tacked to the walls as Sherlock untangled some impossible web of intrigue?  
  
A flip of the coin. Anything and everything.  
  
He never knew, and in spite of the discomfort and inconvenience and disorder brought about by Sherlock’s nocturnal occupations, John secretly loved it. It was never boring, for one. It brought a beautiful unpredictability to his life, a brightness that he hadn’t felt since his time under the endless Afghan sky. He’d find himself leaping from bed—sleep dust rubbed hastily from his eyes—restraining himself from racing down the stairs just to see what new scene awaited him, what inventive thing Sherlock had done to pass the time.  
  
It was the greatest shock then, when John’s world was transformed, in the early hours that morning, before he even left the bed. Sherlock hadn’t done anything as egregious as tampering with John’s space—the oft-clueless genius at least understood the dangers inherent in that sort of offense. No, everything was in place. Everything as neat and tidy as it had been when he’d lain down to sleep. It was the addition of Sherlock himself that threw John into an alternate universe. The detective wasn’t demanding entrance or jostling him from sleep to pursue some fresh crime scene, he wasn’t seeking attention or begging a morning cuppa, as he was sometimes wont to do.  
  
No. The man was asleep. The man who hardly paused in his frenetic pursuit of stimulation had finally given over to the demands of his body and was asleep.  
  
In John’s bed.  
  
Long limbs curled spider-like around John from behind, gangly things that groped greedily. John was aware of warm puffs of breath on his neck and the disconcerting feeling of a certain _rightness_ to it all. How those sharp elbows and knees could feel comforting, he didn’t know. But they did. They were.  
  
And so John accepted this change to his surroundings as he did all such changes—with grace and amusement—and allowed himself the luxury of snuggling in closer. He stayed that way until the sun rose, buttery sunlight filling the room on this unusually cloudless day.  
  
When he felt Sherlock’s breath hitch as the man resurfaced from slumber, John's smile lit him up from the inside.  
  
“Good morning, Sherlock.”  
  
Sherlock tensed as he came back to himself, but John’s steady acceptance of this turn of events must have calmed him, for his voice was steady as ever. “Good morning, John.”  
  
Pale fingers tested the fabric of John’s shirt, explored the solid warmth underneath. John leaned into the touch, quite content with the shape of this new world.  
  
“I think I like your bed.”  
  
John laughed, pulling Sherlock closer. “Only one thing for it, then…”  
  
Lips brushed along John’s nape, a soft flutter as Sherlock rumbled a deep, questioning hum.  
  
“I suppose you’ll have to stay.” John's argument was sound, if simple. Even the lanky madman could see that.  
  
So he did.  
  
Stay, that is.  
  
Sherlock was not a man known for repeat performances, but in this one case, he was very happy to oblige the desires of his flatmate. And so John found himself waking to this same state of affairs the next day and everyday thereafter.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was a fic written for KrisKenshin's mini challenge "Flip of the Coin." She's a lovely girl and has provided some amazing inspiration. Check her out: kriskenshin(.)tumblr(.)com


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